The Inheritance
by sensai-chan
Summary: Ms. Frizzle is dead and she has chosen an unlikely young man to be her successor. Walkerville has yet to see the likes of crazy such as this: Disgruntled CEO's, mad scientists, the mafia, and a familiar looking yellow muscle car...
1. Chapter 1: Immediate Succesor

The Inheritance

Disclaimer: I do not own the Magic School Bus. This work is purely to stimulate the imagination and no profit, monetary or otherwise, will be gained from these efforts.

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Chapter One: Immediate Successor

It was a cold, wet day. The groundskeeper at the old Walkerville cemetery stood at the edge of a new gravesite with shovel in hand. He had not expected to be burying someone today but, he supposed, no one could really choose to die at a convenient time either. The groundskeeper was quite surprised; he had heard that this funeral was for one of the teachers at the old elementary school; he expected a bigger crowd and a less ostentatious farewell. The crowd was a small one; just a few adults were in attendance. They stood over the deceased and, he noted with shock, a lizard in a suit which appeared to be sobbing hysterically into a handkerchief. The lizard stood on the edge of the casket and, in between sobs, looked over to the deceased mournfully. That was the least of the spectacle. A bright yellow school bus had apparently been driven into the yard and was parked right next to the tombstone. The groundskeeper was unsure if the bus wheezed and trembled because of the rainy weather or if, as he really hoped it wasn't, the bus was exhibiting personifying qualities and appeared to be in a set of hysterics all its own.

One of the adults in attendance, a woman with bright red hair, offered her hand to the lizard and the groundskeeper watched as the lizard hopped onto the woman's arm, scrambled up her shoulder and then proceeded to sob silently. He had never seen a lizard in a suit before. The woman crooned to the lizard in comforting tones and the groundskeeper could barely make out her voice against the din of the rain and the wheezing of the bus.

"It's going to be alright Liz. Val knew this was going to happen sometime. Stop crying." This did not appear to comfort the lizard at all. It also caused an odd stir with the few adults in attendance.

"I wouldn't try to Murph." Said a stout man with mustache and a violet shirt and jeans, he wore work boots and stood next to the bus. He occasionally patted the bus' hood gently. This was another aspect that surprised the groundskeeper; none of the attending wore black. Instead, they all wore colorful clothing and, if he peeked into the casket, he could make out a bright yellow fabric had been used for the lining. In fact, the entire casket was painted to look like a bus. This was quite the ostentatious send off.

"R.U," The woman referred to as "Murph" started, "Valerie knew of her own death long before any of us did."

"Right," R.U. said, "But, that doesn't mean it means any less to Liz."

"I never said that. All I am saying is that it is of no use to cry. She wouldn't have liked that. She informed us of her death to make sure we wouldn't. " Murph stated. "Besides, I am saying it for all of us." She gestured to the crowd attending. "I believe it's best if you get onto the last rites Radius Ulna Humerus." Murph snapped.

Radius Ulna, or "R.U." as he preferred, nodded and walked over to the casket. He took one look at the casket, and it almost broke his resolve. Katrina Eloise "Murph" Murphy, the deceased's cousin, gestured for him to get on with it. So he did.

"Valerie Felicity Frizzle, was a woman whom dedicated her life to education." R.U. had to clear his throat. "She worked harder than anyone to make learning…magical. I… we will forever miss her."

Murph nodded at the groundskeeper. She watched as they lowered her cousin to the ground and turned to the young man next to her. His bright orange hair reminded him so much of her cousin. He was much older now then the cowardly little boy she once met. His lenses were fogged up and he appeared to be grimacing slightly.

"That's it Friz." The boy murmured. "Time to start the next trip. Take chances, make mistakes, get messy and all that."

Murph reached for the young man's shoulder. He glanced at her and smiled tightly.

"Maybe we shouldn't have read the will before this." Murph stated.

"No," the young man said. "She wanted me to know this before she left. She wanted me to hear it first."

"Arnold—"

That was the first time someone had said his name since she had died. Arnold Matthew Perlstein turned to Ms. Murphy and saw the worried expression on her face.

"I am fine Ms. Murphy. I mean…I am fine Murph."

The groundskeeper had begun the shoveling and every time he heard the sound of mud hitting Ms. Frizzle's bright yellow casket, Arnold winced slightly.

"I know she was the closest thing you had to a… a… a parent Arnold."

Arnold shook his head. "In the years I was living with her, she made it clear that she wasn't my mom Murph."

Arnold could remember that day well in his mind. He remembered walking into the Frizzle's home. He remembered her warm smile as she brought him to his room and he remembered all the times she had reminded him that despite this new arrangement, she could not be his parent.

_I have never been a mother, Arnold. All I have ever been is a teacher._

And so, she had been. She had taught him everything she knew. Where before his fears made it impossible for him to follow her on the crazy trips the class would take; now, his fears had turned to doubts, those doubts into notions that were only meant to be disproven. He had learned that, although many had called her magic, Valerie Frizzle was a science and all she ever had been was science.

And just as Valerie Frizzle could never be a mother; Arnold, wimpy Arnold that would groan at the beginning of trips, would not be her son. Instead he became her pupil; her most beloved pupil.

Until now, that is.

Now, as she had requested of him, he became her immediate successor.

R.U. stood by as all the other attendees departed for home. Frizzle had not asked for a funeral.

_No one would come anyway to a kooky old lady's funeral!_

However, Arnold had insisted. He had written invitations to his classmates however, none came. He received condolence letters from a few: Phoebe, Tim, Ralphie, and a strange note on professional letterhead from Wanda. (Despite being "From the Desk of Wanda Li Chen" he doubted the now busy CEO of Li Chen Industries had even looked at the invitation.)

Those whom had attended had been her closest confidants in the past, and of course her only living relative: Murph.

But, the funeral was now over. The funeral was over and it was time to get down to business. R.U. walked over to Arnold and Murph. Arnold looked up to the old man and held out his hand.

"The keys please." Arnold said with a look of determination in his eyes.

R.U. handed them over without a word.

Arnold held out his hand and Liz hopped onto it.

"Are you sure, you want to do this? I don't know if doing this what she would have wanted from you." Murph said.

Arnold simply nodded. "I am not a teacher like her, Murph." Arnold said. "She always told me to walk my own path. Take chances. Make mistakes. Get messy. Besides, she liked it when I told her."

Arnold pressed a button on the keys R.U. had handed him. The bus ached and groaned until it transformed. The Magic School Bus was no more. In its wake, was a bright yellow muscle car.

"I think she would have approved of your ride though." R.U. chuckled slightly.

"There will be another Ice Age if you think I'm starting Frizzle Private Investigators with a school bus."

With that, Arnold climbed on and sped away from Murph and R.U.

As he drove, the rain stopped and the sun peeked through the clouds.

"There you are Valerie." R.U. said as he smiled skyward. "I knew you wouldn't let him leave without saying goodbye."

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_Author's Note: Hello all! My name is sensai32 and I have not written a fanfiction for a long time. However, recently, I had this dream in which the Magic School Bus had been turned into the Magic Muscle Car and the adventure that came with it. Hence, the birth of this new fic: "The Inheritance". So here, we have Arnold, Arnold now turned bad-ass and awesome. He has been living with Ms. Frizzle since his parents died. (More about that later) We also have the characters, R.U. and Murph, Frizzle's mechanic friend and her cousin from the recycling episode. I know it's sad and that I killed Frizzle but, please don't flame me for this. It gets good, I promise. I hope that this is well received and that it gets many reviews. Thank you for reading. _


	2. Chapter 2: Pretty Boy Ramon

The Inheritance

Disclaimer: I do not own the Magic School Bus. This work was produced for the sole purposes of stimulating the imagination. It will never be sold for profit, or any other form of gain.

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Chapter 2: Pretty Boy Ramon.

Carlos Ramon had never been quite so unimpressed than the day he had received a letter from a man whom called himself "the immediate successor of Valerie Felicity Frizzle". He did not understand why it was so difficult for this self-important asshole to not just directly identify himself with a name? He had been unaware that Ms. Frizzle had even had relatives close to her except for her cousin (the recycling Ms. Murphy) and now, as he reread the letter for the nth time, he was informed of two bits of shocking news: that Ms. Frizzle had another relative close enough to appoint her successor and, that she was dead.

Carlos stuffed the letter back into his pants pocket, looked out into the distance, and waited.

This was his job now, professional waiting person. He noted the gray sky and wondered why, as a child, Walkerville had seemed to be such a colorful, sunnier, and cleaner place? In fact, he thought to himself, he realized that the whole world had seemed to be full of color, sun, and purity back then.

He breathed in heavily and continued to wait.

He had been lied to, he surmised. He looked out at the dirty vacant lot, the abandoned playground before him, and the sky that was so very very gray and he remembered the crazy teacher and her magic bus. The world hadn't been full of color, sun, and purity he realized; it only looked that way back then was because it had been full of possibility.

Still, he felt lied to.

He chalked up this newfound perspective to the person whom he blamed all his failures to now: Ms. Valerie Felicity F*****g Frizzle.

"Psssst!"

Carlos turned sharply towards the direction of the noise.

There she was, thirty minutes off schedule.

"You're pretty late right now Carmichael." Carlos said to the approaching figure.

The old stout woman merely nodded and walked over to the tall young man.

"Nothing is ever on time for you dogs anyway!" she spat. Carlos simply chuckled and shook his head. She seemed surprised at his childlike laughter and backed herself two steps away from him. He reached out his hand to her and before she could pull away from him, he took her hand and shook it firmly, smile still warmly in place.

"My name is Carlos. I hear you have something for me."

Mrs. Carmichael's eyes opened wide for a brief second. He let go of her hand and she went to reaching for her dues. "I didn't know they trained the dogs to be nice these days." She murmured to him. He smiled at her kindly and turned around when he realized that she hid the money in an intimate area of her person.

He was sent on these things because none of the people whom were sent to approach him could work up the nerve to really hate him like they did the others.

"Well, just give me my due and I will be on my way and you will never have to see my 'dog' face again." He stated calmly.

Mrs. Carmichael handed him the heavy envelope full of money and as he stuffed it into his coat jacket, she watched him with a mixture of fear, hatred, and pity on her face.

He knew she was staring at him. They all stared at him. He moved to hide the money on his person slowly and deliberately. She was going to ask "the question". He could feel it.

"Why do they send nice boys like you to do such horrible things?" she asked. Her voice dripped with pity.

"Because old ladies like you will forget we're so horrible because of it."

Mrs. Carmichael harrumphed and turned on her heel. "All you dogs ARE horrible because of it." She said as she walked away from him.

"Oh well."

She fumed even more when she heard him and he merely, chuckled loudly.

He proceeded to walk in the direction of the Walkerville diner which wasn't too far off from his designated waiting spot. Ten, twelve minutes later, he entered the room and was immediately ushered into the corner booth by the nervous waitress. He sat down and breathed in the sight before him.

There in front of him in the booth, was Niccolo Ferrara, the son of Mr. Ferrara and the new leader of the Walkerville mob.

"How did the Carmichael delivery turn out Ramon? You're late by like half an hour." Niccolo pressed.

Carlos had no idea how he ended up working for the Ferrara mob; in fact, he wondered how he had even found the mob in the first place. Walkerville had seemed so…nice growing up. As he stared at Niccolo Ferrara's cruel face, he truly wondered what had gone wrong in his life, that the place he remembered full of color and possibility ended up looking like…Niccolo Ferrara.

"Ey! Ramon! Are you even listening to me?!"

Carlos broke out of his reverie and nodded. "You mean _she_ was half an hour late?"

"She?!" Niccolo gasped. "The fiercest member of their family the Carmichaels threatened to send over with the dough was a _she?!" _

"They weren't kidding. Grandma Carmichael was pretty fierce." Carlos chuckled out.

"Ain't nobody got time for your jokes Ramon."

"Sorry." He mumbled. He reached inside his coat for the money and plopped the cash filled envelope in front of Niccolo. "You got your money; can I go now?"

Niccolo swiped the envelope off the table and waved him off. "Have a nice day Pretty Boy Ramon."

"No nicknames, please." He said as he prepared to leave.

"You're part of the mob now boy." Niccolo said without pity. "All new mobsters deserve a nickname."

"I am not part of your motley crew, Ferrara."

Niccolo only laughed at the insult. "Can't be a freelance delivery boy forever, Ramon. One day, someone is gonna wonder who you're loyal to. In fact, I aint gonna lie to you," Niccolo motioned for Carlos to come closer. "The Walker Gang is wondering who you chalk up to. They already wondering why you go between us two so often."

Carlos only huffed. The Walker Gang was another story he didn't feel like writing up. "Yeah, well, they can keep asking 'cause I am not chalking up to anyone."

"Exactly, cause we all know you chalk up to me." Niccolo boasted proudly.

"Not exactly." Carlos stood up abruptly then. "Call me when you need someone to pick up your dirty laundry again."

Niccolo laughed again, "Sure, sure. Just remember Ramon, sometimes, in this life, you gotta take your chances."

Carlos winced slightly to himself. "Sure. Take my chances." He murmured quietly to himself.

He walked out and was surprised to see the sun peeking through the usual gray fog. He took note of how much the colors of Walkerville stood out in the brief sunshine. The red of the stop sign, the brown in the trees, and the achingly familiar bright school bus yellow of the muscle car parked a few feet away from him.

He could almost hear her voice.

_Take chances! Make mistakes! Get messy!_

"Right." He said to himself. "Like I am not dirty enough."

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_Author's Note: Have you ever noticed that as you grow up, the places that seemed awesome to you as a child, get less awesome as you grow older? That is what Carlos is pretty much thinking right now. Welcome to the new Walkerville! Without the magic of youth, possibility, and the Frizz; Walkerville is just your ordinary corrupt small town in the east coast and Carlos is right in the thick of it for reasons that will be disclosed later. He will be very important to the story along with this gang/mob fight. I know I am doing a lot of weirdness to this story but, I promise, it will be awesome. Please read and review. Feel free to critique, flame, and send positive vibes, if that is your inclination. Thank you for your time. _


	3. Chapter 3: The Partners of Frizzle PI

The Inheritance

Disclaimer: I do not own the Magic School Bus. This piece was created only to stimulate the mind's eye. No profit of any form will be garnered from its creation.

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Chapter 3: The Partners of Frizzle Private Eye.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Magic School Bus. This is purely written for the desire to stimulate the imagination and no profit shall be made from this.

If anyone asked, Arnold was happy to be out of that cemetery and back into the vacant building that would soon become the headquarters of Frizzle Private Investigators. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and messed with the doorknob and when it finally creaked open, he turned towards the newly transformed Bus.

The Bus looked at him expectantly. Arnold merely rubbed his chin. Where before, the Bus and its human like qualities and expressions had frightened and mystified him; now the Bus and its expressions were simply the silent language of a dear friend.

"I won't leave you out here, if that is what you were wondering." Arnold said after a few minutes of silence.

The Bus gave him a confused look. Arnold translated that quickly. _Well, how do you expect to bring me in then?_

Arnold looked around outside. He could see no one on the street. Not a single witness to the science that was about to occur was outside to watch. Arnold fished for the key in his pocket and let out a breath, this felt good.

With a wheez and what sounded like a ducks quack, the bus combobbled itself back into its original bus form. After shaking itself out, Arnold pulled a tiny lever on the hood and watched as the bus shrunk to about the size of his thumb.

"How was that?" Arnold asked the Bus.

Mini-Bus honked its approval.

The office space was vacant. He had bought it only a few weeks ago before Ms. Frizzle's death. This was when he was running his plan for the future by her. He was surprised to find that she had agreed so readily.

"_Think about Friz." He had told the old woman on her death bed. "Imagine if everything, not just the mysteries of the natural world but, the mysteries in the lives of the everyday person, could be solved with science? What if everything could be solved with the right knowledge?"_

_He looked at Ms. Frizzle animatedly. She smiled bemusedly at him. Her bright orange hair had dulled into a faded orange with silver streaks, her skin had withered but, her eyes and her smile were as alive as ever. _

"_And why on earth would the Bus be used as a detectives tool?" she protested with mock indignation. _

"_Not a detective Friz." Arnold protested with a grin. "An investigator. I will be a scientist of the human experience Ms. Frizzle. The Bus will be my steed. Not my tool. But, my partner."_

"_Well," she started. "Here I thought I was crazy for using Bus as a teacher's pointer. You're crazier for wanting to make it your partner."_

"_Bus was your partner too" he added. _

_She looked over at Bus, outside her window. The poor thing hadn't had a whirl in forever. Yes, he was right. Bus HAD been her partner. _

"_Then, here is to the Perlstein Private Eye!" she exclaimed loudly. _

"_No." he said. _

"_No?"_

"_Yes," he said with a determined expression. "No."_

"_What will you call yourself you kooky braniac?" Frizzle beamed at him. _

_For a moment, Arnolds eyes gleamed crazily and his hair took on a flaming quality. Valerie watched in awe as quiet Arnold Perlstein, the boy she took in as her own so many years ago, took on a more proud and regal bearing. _

"_Frizzle Private Investigators." He said with absoluteness. _

"_Then Frizzle you will be." She said. She had told him many years ago that she could never be his mother. He responded likewise and never became her son. Yet, looking at him now, she no longer saw a young boy afraid of discovery. She saw a young man with possibility and the fearlessness to chase all those messy chances. _

_She saw a Frizzle. _

That had been a long while ago. He was still shocked that she had agreed. He never imagined though, that he had appointed him her successor. He was given everything: a small fortune the Frizzle family had accumulated since long before Valerie Felicity Frizzle, the Bus, Liz, the Frizzle estate, her massive laboratory, and her name. He never understood why Frizzle had never told the class of her secret wealth but, here he had it. Of all the things that were given to him by her though, the wealth mattered least. He was more than happy to have been given a new start with her name.

He walked around the empty office building and chatted excitedly to Liz about the changes he planned to make.

"We will have all her old books here, an office space here. I think I will use the upstairs as the lab. She always wanted me to have my own lab. What do you think Liz, a lab upstairs?"

The lizard shrugged.

"With its own lizard sized lounge?"

Liz shook its head.

"Constant supply of flies?"

Liz nodded and gestured for Arnold to go upstairs.

"I thought that would be the only stipulation you would agree to."

Arnold continued walking up the stairs until he reached the door labeled roof access. He had bought the building partially for the fact that from there he could access the roof. He turned the knob and climbed up the few stairs when he was suddenly met with a huge expanse of endless sky. It was still cloudy overhead but, small patches of sunlight worked their way through the cloudy mist. He looked down on Walkerville and was surprised to see a dense fog. His heart grew heavy with disappointment. He took of his now foggy glasses and placed them in his coat pocket. He turned to Liz with a sullen expression.

"She would have liked a sunnier day." Arnold told Liz.

Liz merely sniffed and crawled down his back to the ground. She took one look at Arnold and then proceeded to leave. She knew the child would not weep if she was there.

But, Arnold did not cry. Instead, he continued to stare down at Walkerville.

One of the condolence letters he received from his old classmates had told him how, despite the fact that they loved their old teacher; they would not be coming to the funeral.

_It seemed like after I reached a certain point of adulthood, this town, the world, and my entire life seemed to be drained of color…To go and see that the person who gave the world so much color, is gone from it, would be the most devastating thing to me…._

He did not remember who sent it. It was possibly Tim. Tim had always been crazy about color and all the color Frizzle had given him, it only made sense.

He wondered what would have occurred if he had signed the invitations with his name. Would his classmates have come?

He shook his head at the thought. One of the things Frizzle had asked of him when he first moved in was to keep their new arrangement a secret from his classmates. Even if he wanted to sign the invitations with his name, he could not. So, he simply signed them, "The Immediate Successor of Valerie Felicity Frizzle."

He smirked. That would explain all the unnecessary formality in the letters. Ralphie's, especially, had been overtly formal. Had he signed it with his name, he was sure he would have gotten more colorful responses, and Frizzle a bigger crowd at her send off.

Still, looking at Walkerville now, he could see what they meant.

Walkerville had been drained of color. He did not know if it was because he was now an adult and the wonders of childhood ceased or, as Frizzle would have said, the color was simply waiting to be rediscovered.

He looked at the bright orange yellow sunshine that peeked through the clouds and decided on the latter.

He walked back downstairs.

Liz awaited him. As he walked downstairs, he noted that there was oddness brewing in the air along with the sounds of a constant ringing doorbell.

Arnold rushed to the door and handed the Mini-Bus to Liz. _Hide_, he mouthed to them both.

Liz stood stubbornly on his shoulder and merely slipped the bus into his pocket. The Bus began to honk its protest.

"Shush! Stop honking" he commanded.

"If this is a bad time, I could come later." The voice through the door said.

Arnold calmed the bus down and placed Liz on a table out of site. Before, she could climb back on, Arnold sprang the door open.

He opened to find himself staring straight into the barrel of a gun. Behind it, was the smiling face of a young man who looked vaguely familiar.

"I was just about to say," Arnold said calmly, staring the barrel straight down. "This isn't a bad time at all."

The young man cocked his head to the side. "I am glad, because coming later would have been very inconvenient for me."

"Is that so?" Arnold asked.

"Very much 'so'"

"What do you need?" Arnold asked.

The man kept the gun front and center and replied very calmly. "I am here on business that is not my own. The Ferrara's heard that a new business was opening up here and per usual Ferrara custom, I was sent with a friendly 'Welcome to Town'."

Arnold raised a brow. He was well acquainted with the Ferrara family. They had come a few years after Frizzle had retired. It was 2014 and the small town had modernized, they grew until small innocent Walkerville had turned into a town large enough to become the perfect hideaway for criminals of all shapes and slime.

"I am sure this so-called 'Welcome' will cost a lot more in the future. Be sure to tell the Ferrara's that they can keep their 'Welcome'." Arnold responded calmly. After all he managed to overcome, fear was the least of his obstacles.

"You are aware that a gun is being pointed at you, right? You aren't the least bit scared?" The man asked incredulously.

"Sure, empty guns scare me all the time."

"How did you know it was—

Before he could finish his question, Arnold had ripped the gun away from his hand and tossed it behind him. He then proceeded to yank the man's arm and drag him inside. He took Bus out of his pocket and pressed the lever on the hood.

The stranger's eyes opened wide as he took in the sight of the large yellow school bus. His eyes sparked with recognition but, surprise had left him speechless.

He looked at Arnold with an expression of awe and fear.

Arnold shoved him into the Bus and watched as the Bus automatically strapped his unexpected guest into a seat.

"What…what are you going to do to me?!" The man sputtered.

"We are gonna take a little trip." Arnold said as he climbed onto the driver's seat. "How do you like volcanoes?"

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_Author's Note: Dun! Dun! DUNNNNNNNN! Two points to whomever can guess who the guy toting the gun is. Please read and review if you enjoyed the piece or have been enjoying it. If you didn't enjoy it or haven't been enjoying it, feel free to tell me why as well. Thank you for your consideration._


	4. Chapter 4: The Tough Act

The Inheritance

Disclaimer: I do not own The Magic School Bus. This is purely a work to stimulate the imagination and no profit will be made from this at all.

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Chapter 4: The Tough Act

If it wasn't for the waves of unbearable heat pushing against his face or, the ghastly smell of sulfur, Carlos could say that staring into the mouth of a volcano was the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Yet the heat, the smell, and the frightening fact that he was hanging out of the Magic School Bus with nothing but a seat belt to stop him from entering the mouth of said volcano, kept him from completely enjoying the mesmerizing rush and swirl of molten lava.

Carlos glared at the man above him. He had not been able to take a good look at the man before hand as he pointed the barrel of an empty gun at him however, he noted now that the gentleman whom had so clearly abducted him could be nothing else but a Frizzle.

The hair was the same crazy shade of orange yet, upon closer observation, one could tell that this gentleman did not inherent the trademark frizz; the frizz had been replaced with curls that curled nonchalantly but, were placed in a wild, casual disarray on his head. Whereas Ms. Frizzle had a warm olive complexion from too many "trips" into the sun, this man's skin held none of her warmth in his pallor. Ms. Frizzle's countenance had always been one of love, amusement, and childlike eagerness yet; her immediate successor had a stony, calculated expression. In his eyes however, was that same Frizzle gleam; a gleam that foretold of adventures to come, chances to take, and opportunities to get as messy as possible.

"Who are you?" the man spoke. Carlos gulped. The voice was a deep baritone that could threaten while never raising an octave.

Carlos was still too shocked to answer.

After a few moments of silence, Man-Frizzle shouted to Liz, "Get us a little closer Liz!"

The Bus had activated its accordion feature and had been descending its rear into the volcano slowly. Carlos was hanging out of the rear emergency exit and the man stood atop the rear end of the bus on what appeared to be suction cup shoes.

"Who are you?" Man-Frizzle asked again patiently.

"My, _myname _is C-Carlos Ramon."

Man-Frizzle glared at him. "Well, Mr. Ramon," he said. "Care to explain what a nice young man like you is doing threatening people with empty guns?"

"I already told you!" Carlos shouted desperately. "The Ferrara's sent me!"

"I think you need a new job Carlos." He gestured to the molten lava below. "Being a mobster clearly is a hazardous profession."

"I swear! I won't do it again! Just please don't kill me!" Carlos pleaded, he could feel the heat rising.

"Luckily for you," he said. "Killing others is beneath me."

"Does that mean you will take me out of here?" Carlos asked eagerly.

"Of course."

With that, Man-Frizzle shouted a few words to Liz and Bus transformed into a helicopter. Man Frizzle stood at its doors and Carlos found himself standing on the edge of the volcano, looking up at the orange-haired man. It was only when he realized he was craning his neck up to see the Bus that Carlos realized; he wasn't inside it at all.

He was being left behind.

"You're leaving me here?!" Carlos shouted up to the Man-Frizzle.

_Of course! _The Man-Frizzle said calmly through the Bus's speaker system. _I said I would take you out of there!_

Carlos thought quickly, he was not about to be trapped in some deserted island with a volcano that looked about ready to pop.

_Fly us out of here Liz!_

"WAIT!"

Man-Frizzle glared down at Carlos.

_What is it?_

Carlos immediately covered his mouth. He had not expected it to be so simple to stall him.

The Man-Frizzle looked down at him expectantly.

Shit.

Carlos thought quickly.

Bingo.

"You're not using the Bus correctly!" Carlos shouted.

_Oh really?_

"Really!" Carlos said. "I used to ride with the Frizzle a long while back."

The Bus lowered itself onto the ground and the Man-Frizzle stood at its door with a confused expression on his face.

"You knew Ms. Frizzle?" he asked.

Carlos nodded. This was it. This guy didn't stand a chance. Carlos turned on his charm and walked over the bus. He leaned against it and patted the hood gently.

"Oh yeah." Carlos smirked. "Me, the Friz, and Bus over here go way back, don't we Bus?"

The Bus stared Carlos down. Bus gave him a once over and then, the light of recognition blared. Bus honked its agreement.

Frizzle's Successor did not seem at all convinced to Carlos.

And Arnold wasn't.

He had dragged this idiot inside the empty building and out to the mouth of an active volcano for a little payback. His guardian/mentor had just died and having some wannabe mobster come over and decide he needed to participate in the neighborhood tribute had been the peak of this horrible experience. He was angry as heck. Now, this idiot—Carlos, was his name right?—this idiot Carlos was claiming to have known Ms. Frizzle.

The thing was, that if Arnold used the evidence before him, that fact was entirely believable:

This Carlos kid had known the name of his guardian without it having been told to him. But, that could just have been the byproduct of the Ferrara's. Carlos had been sent to "welcome" specifically him and his new "business" to town. He would have to have known the name on the building was Frizzle.

Yet, that hadn't accounted for Bus' odd behavior towards the stranger either.

He had claimed to know Bus, and Bus wasn't disagreeing.

The pieces could only fit if, this Carlos was telling the truth.

"How did you know her?" Arnold asked.

"How else does anyone in Walkerville know her, Man-Frizzle?" Carlos asked rhetorically. "She was a teacher at the school"

"That doesn't explain how you know Bus though." Arnold retorted.

"Simple, Friz-Dude," Carlos answered. "She had been _my_ teacher back in third grade like 13 years ago"

It all suddenly made sense. Arnold looked at Carlos over again. He could see why he hadn't seen it before.

Carlos Ramon, had changed a lot since third grade.

The Carlos he had known had sported a full head of hair which now had been cut into a sleeker style. This Carlos had grown taller and was shaped by lean muscle. He wore expensive looking shoes. The baby fat that had rounded his face into one of a cocky child had thinned and had left a pronounced jaw line, a proud chin which wore a self-satisfied smirk. This Carlos had a slight five-o'clock shadow on his cheeks, on his chin and, the stubbly remains of a mustache on his upper lip. But, the traces of his old classmate were still there. The smile was the same. The glint of repressed humor in warm brown eyes, and the devil-may care way he held himself. Even as a child, Carlos had always been incredibly confident.

"She would have been disappointed the way you turned out, Carlos." Arnold found himself saying after a few moments of silence. "Get on Bus. We'll take you home."

Carlos climbed on sporting the most relieved grin on his face. He had honestly not expected that to work. He had expected Man-Frizzle to not give a damn and just leave him stranded regardless but, he had proven himself to be just as soft as the old Frizzle.

What a line of suckers! So much for the tough act!

But, Carlos found himself contemplating what he had said to him. She would have been disappointed by the way Carlos had turned out. He had never really thought much as to what Ms. Frizzle would have thought of him. Instead, he had concentrated his life, his ideals, and his decisions with only one thought to distract him from that idea.

She had lied to him.

"No she didn't."

Carlos snapped his head up. Man-Frizzle was glaring at him from the seat next to him.

"What?" Carlos asked.

"You said she lied to you." Man-Frizzle said. "Whatever it was that you were thinking; you're wrong. She never lied to anyone about anything and it sure isn't an excuse for the way you ended up Carlos."

Carlos raised his brows. He had said that aloud. Whatever, the Man-Frizzle would defend her to the point of no return of course, they were related.

"Yeah, whatever." He found himself saying. "So what was she to you? Was she like your mom, your aunt, your distant relative or something?"

Man-Frizzle shook his head. "Nope, no, and no. We weren't related. At all."

Carlos grinned. "What? So, she just gave a random stranger the Bus after she died?! That sounds like loony Frizzle alright."

"She took me in when I was nine. My parents died and she was the only person who I could trust enough to go with."

"Wow!" Carlos exclaimed. "So, she was a friend of the family?"

"No."

"Neighbor?"

"No."

"Your father's side-chick?"

"What?!" Man-Frizzle turned beet red. "No! Shut up before I take you back to the volcano!"

Carlos leaned back into the seat and watched as his bus companion straightened himself out. He knew how long he had to wait for an answer. He knew how long it would take; he was a professional waiting person.

He counted to seven.

1..2..3…4…

Man-Frizzle got up and walked to the driver's seat.

5…6…7…

Carlos arched a brow.

8?

Man-Frizzle sat down and looked out the window

9?

"She was my teacher too."

Carlos was impressed. He never had to count to ten before someone gave him an answer.

"Were you in her class before mine was? You seem older."

"Neither."

Carlos turned his head then and really looked at the Man-Frizzle.

Arnold had walked back to sit in the seat opposite Carlos again.

Carlos watched as he took out his glasses from his pocket and put them on.

"We were in the same class." Carlos stated in awed tones as he looked into the cold blue gaze of Arnold Matthew Perlstein.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to Omniskriba for reviewing! I tried to incorporate some of the critique in the story. I hope it wasn't any kind of over-kill and that I did a good job. So, Carlos and Arnold have just finished their first encounter and they both now know who each other are. I guess I should add that this isn't a romance fic. There will be no hot Carlos on Arnold action; this is purely a friendship fic. That being said, I do imagine romance to be a part of this fic at some point in time. Not a whole mess of it but, a small sprinkling. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! If you could please leave a review with your thoughts, your feelings, and just your general opinion of this fic, it would be greatly appreciated. I welcome any and all feedback as I write not just for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of others but, for my own improvement as well. A massive thanks once again to Omniskriba and to all who are kind enough to read this. Please do review; they are greatly appreciated._


	5. Chapter 5: New Employment

The Inheritance

Disclaimer: I do not own the Magic School Bus. I write this for fun. I will not make any money from this. Trust me.

* * *

Chapter 5: New Employment.

Arnold was unsure about the events that had just now occurred. He had merely sat down in front of Carlos and put his glasses on to get a better look at his old classmate. He had not expected for Carlos to get up from his seat and start yelling obscenities.

"What the fuck?! Holy shit! You're her fucking 'immediate successor'?!"

Arnold rolled his eyes. Carlos was probably on drugs in addition to being part of the mob and, was clearly suffering the after-effects of a horrible stimulant. He had looked at Carlos now with his glasses on and deemed that indeed, his old classmate did look quite different than he used to.

"You look…different." Arnold mumbled to himself.

"Yeah, no shit. Right back at ya'." Carlos said after calming down somewhat.

Arnold's ears pricked up at that.

"I mean, you could have told me it was you Arnold." Carlos said after Arnold had fixed him with a quizzical look.

"Carlos." Arnold responded.

"Yeah?"

"It's me." He said. "Arnold. I was your classmate."

Carlos groaned and put his head in his hands. "I know who you are_ now_ dumb-shit. After all this time, you haven't changed the frame of your glasses."

Arnold took off his glasses. He looked at them, and then put them back on.

"I never thought of changing the frame."

"Yeah, well, "Carlos responded. "It could have helped you hide your identity better if that was what you were going for; because trust me, when you put them on, you start looking like yourself a little bit."

Arnold raised a brow. He hadn't been trying to protect his identity at that time. If he had known that the mobster with the empty gun had been Carlos, he definitely would have tried a little harder to conceal his identity. After all, he had promised Ms. Frizzle that no one would know.

At the thought of Ms. Frizzle, Arnold felt a jolt of emotion. He had broken his promise. It was unintentional but, still he had broken his promise.

"I told her that I wouldn't tell anyone." Arnold said to Carlos. "No one from back then was supposed to know that she had taken me in. She said it would complicate things."

Carlos only half listened to Arnold. His mind was too busy putting the pieces together of the puzzle that was the Man-Friz—Arnold.

That was right. Arnold had never come to fourth grade with the rest of them. He hadn't shown up for middle school, high school, and he never seemed to see Arnold in town as much as he once did. When he began to take bad strides, Carlos noticed that the Perlsteins were never in town either.

"Where have you been?" Carlos then asked.

Arnold was unsure of whether or not he should reply. Would telling Carlos break his promise to Ms. Frizzle? Or, would it no longer matter since, Carlos had figured it out and Ms. Frizzle was dead anyway?

Arnold took one look at Carlos. This was his former classmate and friend, his now almost attacker and current mob man. He wondered if he should take this chance.

Arnold looked at Carlos, and took a deep breath.

No.

The answer was a definite: no.

"I have been around." Arnold said finally.

"Well, where?"

"Here and there." He responded as he stood up and headed to the door. They had arrived at their destination. "I have been everywhere." Arnold said with a wicked grin.

The door opened and Arnold gestured for Carlos to step out.

"Wow," Carlos said as he stepped off in front of Walkerville Elementary. "This is nostalgic."

"This is the only place Bus likes to stop at." Arnold said.

Carlos turned around and smiled to Arnold. However, he was not met with a smile in return. He was being given a death glare. The glasses only seemed to enhance the icy blue of Arnold's eyes and, instead of making him seem like a cowardly dork as they had when they were children, the glasses only sharpened Arnold's gaze and made him seem all that much more cold and calculated.

"Say one word about what happened to you today," Arnold began, "and I will take you from where you stand at that very moment and drop you in the Jurassic. I will have no mercy."

Carlos felt afraid for the first time in a long time.

"You have been warned." Arnold said finitely, he turned to leave.

Carlos stood and stared at the Bus, for one last time. Before his eyes, Bus had contorted its expression and, with a child's laugh and the sound of a horn, the Bus had been transformed into a bright yellow muscle car.

"Let's go Liz." Arnold said as he sat behind the driver's seat.

"WAIT!"

Arnold turned around and saw Carlos holding his hands up to his mouth. He raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.

"What is it this time?"

Carlos looked around sheepishly. He looked down at his expensive shoes.

"You're using the Bus wrong." He said simply.

Arnold smirked. "Oh really?"

"Yes. Really." Carlos said.

Carlos had no idea what was coming over him. One minute, he had been prepared to run as fast as his shiny leather shoes could take him and then, Arnold had changed the Bus. He had looked at the car and felt nothing but a strong sense of wrong-_ness _. The Bus was not meant to be anything but, the Bus. He really had meant it when he said Arnold had been using the Bus wrong.

"How am I using the Bus wrong if you're such an expert?" Arnold retorted.

"First" Carlos said as he opened the car door and sat next to Arnold, "this is supposed to be 'The Magic School Bus' not 'The Magic Muscle Car'."

"What are you doing?" Arnold asked as he saw Carlos sit beside him.

"Second, I don't want to get accidently thrown into the Jurassic. What if I see…? I don't know, Tim or something? If he asks me about you, and I forget I am not supposed to talk about you; I am gonna get kidnapped, and thrown into the Jurassic. If I just stay with you, you can keep an eye on me and, no one meets a T-Rex."

"No."

"Third," Carlos continued. "Someone needs to make sure, you're using Bus correctly and keeping up with the Friz's vision."

"Shut up and get out of my magical muscle car Carlos."

"No."

"Get out."

Carlos rolled his eyes. "I am a professional waiting person for the mob Arnold." He said. "You don't want to do this with me."

"Exactly. You work for a mob. I am not starting Frizzle Private Investigators, with a mob man."

Carlos gave Arnold a confused look. Frizzle Private Investigators? Arnold was a detective? Was he serious?

"Are you serious?" he found himself asking.

Arnold merely huffed and opened the car door with the press of a button. "Dead serious."

"Okay then." Carlos said unfazed. "Hire me."

"What part of 'you're in the mob' is too hard for you to understand?"

Carlos squinted up at the sky. "I am not really in the mob."

"You just said you were a—

"I am a freelance gangster." Carlos said. "So, technically I am not in the mob. And…after this little volcanic adventure, I am looking into new employment being a freelance gangster is not as…safe, as it once was."

"My answer is still no. Get. Out." Arnold declared.

"So…any new cases, Boss?"

Arnold realized that he wasn't going to be getting Carlos out of the car anytime soon.

"Even if I was hiring, which I am not, and I most certainly wouldn't be considering the services of a freelance gangster either, I have no cases yet. So please, get out of my car."

Carlos still sat there and thought pensively. Arnold needed a case. Carlos wanted out of the mob life. Arnold had the Bus. Carlos needed to ditch the Walker Gang. Arnold needed a case. Carlos was the delivery boy for two of the biggest crime organizations in Walkerville. Arnold. Case. Bus. Carlos.

"I think, I may have a case for you." Carlos said

Arnold turned to Carlos. "You don't have a case."

"I have a case."

"What, in dear lord, could you have for me that could remotely be called a case?" Arnold asked, exasperation clear in his voice.

"How about the case that brings down the two biggest rival crime organizations in Walkerville?" Carlos asked with a bemused smile on his lips.

Arnold sat slumped into the driver's seat and sighed.

"I am listening."

* * *

_A/N: An unlikely duo. A scientist and an ex-gangster for hire. What will become of our heroes? Will Arnold take the case? Will Carlos ditch the mob? Will they ever agree if the Bus is meant to stay a Bus or forever be a Muscle Car? Grazie Mille to all who have read this far into this fic. I am grateful for all of you. Please do leave a comment with feedback. I always take feedback into consideration when writing chapters out. Feel free to say as much or as little as you want about anything that you did or did not like about the fic. I appreciate every form of commentary. Thank you again for your time and your consideration._


	6. Chapter 6: Permanent Record

The Inheritance

Disclaimer: I do not own the Magic School Bus. I like to tell stories that look like adventures but, are really thinly veiled dramas with characters from the things I once, and still, love. I wouldn't sell that love for all the money in the world, if it was even possible to.

* * *

Chapter 6: Permanent Record

The past went a little like this.

Carlos had once been a boy. He had once gone to school. He had loved a teacher whom had, in turn, made him love things. When the time came, as it does for most children, he had to move on and grow older. So, he grew, and all this things his teacher made him love slowly disappeared. Light, color, fun, learning, and joy; all these things ebbed into the white noise of adulthood as they are wont to do in light of all that adults have to deal with. As all he had come to love slowly left, the love he had once had for these things also slowly left. The love went and anxiousness overcame him. This anxiousness, this fear intensified into melancholy. This melancholy he blamed on his loss, and his loss turned into anger for he deemed all he had lost to be a lie.

He still felt sad though.

And in his sadness, he turned to distraction. This distraction came in the form of danger. Danger being the only thing that excited him into the frenzies of energy and delight that he had known as a child. Yet, instead of feeling excitement over discovery, this excitement was fueled by adrenaline rushes which came from jumping fences, narrowly missed bullets, and yes, it often came from dipping his fingers into a world that was void of color and light.

He also happened to enjoy guns.

It was safe to say then, that, the life of crime had suited him very much.

"I don't think so."

Carlos glared at Arnold as they sat in the now, truly correct, Magic School Bus.

"You didn't even let me finish my story." Carlos answered with a petulant tone. He had just gotten to the gun part when Arnold had interrupted him.

"I don't think this 'life of crime' suits you at all, as you say." Arnold said.

Carlos frowned. "Why do you say that?" he said.

"Well, for starters, you want a career change." Arnold said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I do." Carlos started. "Getting almost thrown into a volcano on what should have been a routine meet and greet can make a guy want out of the fire—no pun intended— and move onto the next frying pan. Every gangster would rather live tomorrow working for someone else than dying for the sake of whoever pays him today."

"You said that you liked feeling the excitement from dangerous situations." Arnold continued. "You can get excitement from anything Carlos. You could have kept going, kept learning, kept up with all that she had taught you. But, you just took the easy way out."

Carlos frowned. How could Arnold understand what it felt like to go a day in the real world, away from Frizzle's world of magic and experience the truth?

"You don't know what it is like." Carlos stated. "You got to stay with her and got to keep experiencing all that with her. Everyone, not just me, felt it. Phoebe cried everyday in fourth grade and D.A? No one has seen D.A since high school started! Ralphie was arrested in junior year for having marijuana and Wanda just went, became some cold-hearted business marm, and completely forgot about all of us. I may have chosen the easy way out but, that didn't make the things I saw with Frizzle any less of a lie."

Carlos finished his tirade, breathed deep, and looked at Arnold. He held his breath at the cool expression on Arnolds face. Emotions could not be read.

Arnold however, was processing all the different emotions that this news created in him. He was surprised by all the conflictions. He felt guilty but, then there was a hint of indifference. He felt sad and, he felt anger. He felt shocked but, there was also a hint of disappointment.

He did not measure his words carefully with the next words he uttered.

"You all could have tried harder then."

Carlos felt anger bubble up inside of him but, suppressed it. "Yeah, well not all of us got lucky enough to be chosen as 'Valerie Felicity Frizzle's immediate successor'."

Arnold then realized what he had said but, despite the growing guilt within him, he would not take back his words.

"You still look for it, Carlos. You all still look for it." Arnold stated. "I know I did."

Carlos scoffed. "What are you talking about Frizzle?" he asked incredulously.

Arnold was unsure how to proceed, taken aback by Carlos' question. Especially that last part. "The world got dark for me once too. I know it's hard to remember everything she taught you when the world gets dark but, it's possible."

"How can you say that?!" Carlos angrily retorted. He was sick of pushing the truth into this guy's stubborn face.

Arnold took a deep breath and reached into the bus' glove compartment. He reached deep into the never ending compartment and pulled out a suitcase that looked worn and beaten with all the times it had been opened and closed.

"What is that?" Carlos asked.

"You'll see." Arnold stated. He opened the suitcase and pulled out six manila folders with photos paper clipped to the front. Arnold looked through them until he found the one he was looking for. He walked over to Carlos and plopped the folder onto the empty seat and waited.

Carlos was unsure what to think. The photo was of him, back when he was only child. A child in Frizzle's classroom.

"What is this?" Carlos asked again.

"It's your Permanent Record." Arnold said.

Carlos looked through the pages. There were 13 photos of him, all of them capturing him at every age of his life. With every photo were pages of what looked to be notable events in his life. He looked for himself at age 16 and only one dated entry.

"Carlos Ramon dropped out of school, December 16." Carlos read. Carlos kept looking through pages and kept reading. "'Carlos Ramon did not go home for Christmas. Carlos didn't say goodbye to his mother or father. I am worried. Carlos told a joke to Niccolo Ferrara. I do not think Mr. Ferrara found it all too funny.' Damn!" Carlos swore. "She even added commentary."

Arnold merely sat until Carlos pushed his way to the last photo taken of him. He very nearly snorted when he heard the entry. "'Carlos met Arnold. Arnold almost pushed him into a volcano.'" Carlos read it in awed tones. Wasn't Frizzle dead though?

Carlos looked onto the page and yelped when he saw that the bottom half of the pages begin to fill with words. "'Carlos saw his Permanent Record. He screamed in terror…"

Carlos dropped the Record and stared at Arnold. "What the fuck?! How the fuck is she still writing this?! I thought she was dead!"

"Her spirit is in many places." Arnold merely said calmly.

Carlos shuddered and looked at the rest of the folders in the suitcase. "She has one for all of us doesn't she?" he asked. Arnold nodded.

"Which is why I know the things I know." Arnold said. "I know you all still look for it; her magic, her color, and her light. That's why Tim is an artist; Keisha is a writer, Phoebe is a teacher, and Ralphie? Ralphie was bailed out of prison and has been on the straight and narrow ever since. He is in medical school."

Carlos turned red as Arnold continued.

"Everyone in that suitcase tried harder, Carlos." Arnold fixed him with his a cold stare. "All except for you."

Carlos swallowed his guilt and looked at the suitcase again. "Why are there only six of them?"

"I keep my own file." Arnold said.

"Okay but," Carlos began, "Then that means that there should be seven folders; not six."

"Frizzle kept two folders to herself. She never told me who they belonged to. This is my first time accessing the suit case on my own anyhow. I was never allowed to fully explore them as she only had me fetch them every once in a while."

"You would think she would have more folders considering that she was a teacher." Carlos added, eyeing the suitcase.

Arnold took the file Carlos had dropped, placed it into the suitcase and put it back into the never ending glove compartment.

"We were her only class." He responded.

"What?!" Carlos asked incredulously. "Why?"

Arnold shrugged. "I don't know. She never told me. I used to think it was my fault but, she always shook her head when I told her that. Murph told me that she was too heartbroken to do it again."

"Heartbroken?"

Arnold smiled then and shook his head. He looked over to Carlos and said with genuine warmth in his tone.

"She fell in love with all of us, Carlos."

To Carlos, that was nothing short of a revelation. While such an idea could make sense to anyone in theory, (after all, every teacher supposedly loved their students) after all he had gone through, it did not make much sense to him. Frizzle had put them in danger time and time again; and to Carlos, she had cruelly sent them off into the world after exposing them to that danger and to an entirely different view of the world. He looked over at the glove compartment again and then to the still smiling Arnold, who looked at him with an expression that just outlined his expectation for Carlos to just understand and accept what was just told to him.

"Why the files though?" he finally asked. Arnold stopped smiling and just looked confused. He did not understand how the answer was not obvious to Carlos.

"Because when you love someone, you never forget them." Arnold said. Carlos noted that his answer seemed too simple to Arnold, as if though it had been told to Arnold before many times over.

"Fine." He conceded. "I am looking for it still. I am looking for the 'light' or whatever. I took the easy way out." Carlos paused

Arnold nodded and motioned for Carlos to continue.

"I want to do what's right now." Carlos said. He felt like swallowing the bile that wanted to rise with that statement. It didn't matter if Arnold wasn't related to Frizzle by blood. He was still a Frizzle by nature and like a Frizzle, he was about to be bullshitted into helping him get out of the clutches of both the mob, the Walker Gang, all while evading the law at the same time. He knew he could do it to with just a few declarations of righteousness and a sudden conversion to the "good" side. The fact that Carlos had to lie about his intention in such a sappy manner was way too much for his delicate stomach to handle.

"I want to stop all that is making Walkerville grey and colorless." Carlos said; his voice thick with emotion.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Carlos was laying it on super thick. If he could take down both mobs and walk away scot free then he could move on to greener pastures. He knew though that if he let Arnold know that he was a delivery boy for both the gangs and only sough their demise for his own selfish reasons, Arnold would never take him on.

"Will you let me do that Arnold?" Carlos finished. "Will you let me help you keep her alive in Walkerville?"

Arnold narrowed his eyes at Carlos' flowery speech.

"I won't take you on." He said finally.

Fuck. Shit. Drat.

"But."

Carlos' ears perked up. There was a "but", if he had learned anything in life it was that the word "but" was the word of the duped.

"I'll take your case."

* * *

_Author's Note: What do you think about the "Permanent Records"? Frizzle missed her babies so much when she left them! Also, her spirit is everywhere and very much alive, as we will come to see. Carlos is trying to pull the wool over Arnold's eyes but, Arnold don't need no glasses to see through Carlos' bullshit. This chapter was short though, I will admit that much. A grand thank you to all who reviewed! I commend you on your openness and your kindness. You have done me a great honor by choosing to review. I thank all who read this fic as well with the same gratefulness. I love to write and it only makes me happy to know people actually read this If there is anything you wish to share with me, please do leave a review! I appreciate, welcome, and truly consider any and all feedback whether it's good, bad, or anything in between. As some writers have stated, reviews are my fuel. Thank you for reading! _


	7. Chapter 7: Lackeys

The Inheritance

Disclaimer: I do not own MSB. This was written as a form of expressing emotion and imagination. No one will buy this, so I won't make any money off of it.

* * *

Chapter 7: Lackeys

Arnold was not convinced at Carlos' sudden desire to become a detective and help him end crime in Walkerville. Despite the fact that Arnold did not believe for one second that Carlos was suited for a life of crime, there was no denying that the former mob man for hire enjoyed his line of work to the fullest. He had even openly admitted to liking guns the other day. Yet, no matter how much he wasn't going to take on Carlos, he was definitely going to take on this case. Before even going on an entire unwanted soliloquy about his past, Carlos had given the details of the case and Arnold could only sigh at the memory.

_Carlos had finally managed to convince Arnold to turn the Magic Muscle Car back into the Magic School Bus. But, in exchange, Arnold wanted to know why Carlos was so keen on taking down both his current employer and the Walker Gang. He hadn't asked Carlos much about his relationship with the Ferrara's; and to be fair, it interested him little; the mistakes Carlos had made were all his own business to rectify or continue. Regardless, the fact that Carlos wanted to take down both his own organization and their rivals was enough to both garner Arnold's primary interest and raise much of his suspicion. _

"_See, I know the mafia pretty well. I practically am a Ferrara." Carlos had explained. "They call me Pretty Boy Ramon; so I am practically a member!" Carlos had explained with what sounded to be too much enthusiasm. Carlos schooled his features into one of utter seriousness though in a heartbeat. Carlos knew that he was about to reveal a big time Ferrara secret. One he only knew because, if he tied onto either crime organization permanently, they planned to make him their main component. "But, they have been acting pretty fishy around the school." He finished after a few minutes of "silent contemplation" and gestured to the building behind them._

_Arnold furrowed his brow. The Ferrara's had issues with Walkerville Elementary?_

"_What do they want with the school?" _

"_Not just the school." Carlos stated as an afterthought. "They want the district too."_

_Arnold continued to look at Carlos with a look of utter confusion and disdain. "What about the district?"_

"_The Ferrara's are planning to plant a new Superintendent into office and guzzle the budget for the money. They plan to have a few shootings and make the area a danger zone so that the school will have to be shut down."_

"_Why?" Arnold asked, his voice laced with disgust._

_Carlos smiled. He knew he had him then. _

"_I know from a trusted source that the Walker Gang has the same plan as the Ferrara's." he added._

"_Why?" Arnold asked again more urgently. Arnold was being led around in circles and he knew it. Carlos was feeding him with suspense and dammit! If he didn't care so much for Frizzle and her old stomping grounds so much, he wouldn't be listening!_

"_Because, The Scientist requested it." Carlos said in a suspenseful and awed tone. _

"_Whose that?" Arnold asked; his voice sharp with anger. Who would be so horrible as to steal money from schools, endanger the lives of innocent children, just for an elementary school? It made no sense to him but, it still managed to make him angry. _

"_No one knows, not even the gangs know. But, The Scientist is a benefactor to both the Walkers and the Ferrara's. Practically owns them both. If The Scientist requests something, it will get done. But, if we take down the gangs, there will be no one there to do it." Carlos said. _

_Arnold sighed as he heard Carlos finish his case. "How can you align yourself with such monsters?"_

"_Well, it all started when—_

"_It was a rhetorical question." Arnold said before the story could go any further. _

"_After Frizzle's class…"_

_Carlos continued anyway and as Arnold listened to the story, he made up his mind. He planned to take the gangs down but, he wouldn't take on the gangster for hire. He did plan to keep an eye on him though…._

Arnold had been busy writing down his plan for the case when all of a sudden, Carlos burst up onto the roof where Arnold had turned the Bus into an Armchair for the time-being.

"It's not fair!" He yelled at Arnold. "You said I could help you! Not be your damn paint boy!"

Yes, Arnold had taken Carlos in. He wouldn't take him on but, he did not want the ex-mob man to simply be allowed to walk freely knowing his identity and this case was at stake. However, Arnold was not going to let the idiot stay in his newly bought office as a lounge lizard.

He already had Liz for that.

He had told Carlos that he could help, and the bright look on Carlos' face had stayed excited and overjoyed until he brought him back to the new office and handed him a paint roller. Carlos was going to help alright; after all, he had a case to work on and couldn't be bothered to paint the walls of his new office himself.

"You wanted to help and you didn't expect me to just take your case on for free did you?" Arnold said with a smirk.

"You're lucky I am even giving this to you at all. I could have gone to another P.I." Carlos retorted.

"By all means leave." Arnold said cooly. "I am sure that going to another Investigator could either land you in prison or the mob will know of your desire to take them down and issue a contract for your head."

Carlos fumed in silence and watched as Arnold stood up and closed the little book he had been writing on. The early morning sun made his hair look alight with flame and it only added to the dangerous aura Arnold was suddenly perpetuating. The smirk only added a touch of crazy to him and Carlos was suddenly reminded of molten lava and how mesmerizing it was to look at and how fearful he was of the swirling bubbling depths.

Arnold was a lot like that now. A mesmerizing danger that inspired fear emanated from his form. Arnold continued to speak. "Or, they could alert both groups and double your chances of death. In fact, if you were sent to prison, I am sure both groups have enough constituents in there to insure your death in the penitentiary walls. " Carlos gulped as Arnold continued to speak rather nonchalantly about his dismal fates. "Think about it Ramon, you could paint my walls, go to jail, or die? Or you could go to jail and die? The choice is very much up to you."

With that said, Arnold pushed a button on the Bus which caused it to revert and shrink. He pocketed Bus and proceeded to walk away when he heard Carlos speak behind him.

"You're scary as hell Perlstein and way too damn cold."

Arnold kept on walking until he heard Carlos say in a low voice that was full of malice.

"She wouldn't have liked the way you turned out either."

Arnold stopped and didn't turn around to see Carlos. He shrugged and he heard Carlos suck his teeth in annoyance.

"The funny thing about Frizzle was, Carlos, that she may not have liked the way either of us turned out but," he turned around to look at Carlos and saw that he was being heavily glared at. "She loved us anyway."

Arnold watched as Carlos' glare softened into regret. It was the most genuine emotion that he had seen on his face so far. He hated to admit it but, Frizzle _would_ have loved Carlos despite everything he had done. Frizzle would have given Carlos a second chance. Frizzle would have wanted him to take Carlos on as his partner.

"Frizzle loved us anyway." He repeated, more for himself than for Carlos.

He turned on his heel and walked downstairs, Carlos followed wordlessly. He walked into the room that Carlos had been painting and looked at the walls. They both stared at the walls together for a moment until Carlos broke the silence.

"I know."

Arnold picked up another paint roller and dipped it into the paint and began to roll it onto the walls. He wasn't going to trust Carlos so easily but, he wasn't going to keep treating Carlos like crap. Frizzle wouldn't have wanted that. He could start like this though. He could start by treating him like an equal. Carlos stood stock still in shock until Arnold gestured for him to join him. He picked up the roller that he had tossed onto the floor in anger and dipped it into the white-wash. He painted the space of wall opposite of Arnold.

"Arnold?"

"Yes Carlos?"

"Does this mean we are friends?" he asked hopefully and with a teasing lilt to his voice.

"No." Came the sudden reply.

"Am I your partner then?"

"No."

"Then what am I?" Carlos asked.

"You're an unpaid lackey." Arnold said with a smirk.

Carlos smiled a little. There had been humor in that response. And besides, bosses didn't paint walls with unpaid lackeys.

"Okie-doke Boss!"

"Just call me Arnold." Arnold said.

"Am I your partner?"

"No—

"Then Boss it is."

Arnold groaned but, continued to paint in silence.

A few miles away, as Arnold and his new unpaid lackey painted walks and readied the new home for Frizzle Private Investigators, Niccolo Ferrara was having the most stressful conversation of his life over the phone at a conference scheduled with the most important people in the Ferrara family.

_**Where is your damn delivery boy with the Frizzle tribute, Niccolo?! **_

Niccolo wiped the sweat from his brow. Although the voice that boomed at him through the speakers had been distorted by a voice changer, it still managed to instill fear in him.

"I am sorry Mr. Scientist, sir but, I sent the best man in the field for the Frizzle just yesterday. I am sure he'll come back successful. New tributes are usually the hardest to convince."

_**I don't care how you do it but, I want Frizzle to cower and back away. I want Frizzle to feel and become as little and as unimportant as possible. **_

"But, why sir?"

The voice changer turned the laugh into a menacing chuckle. _**I just want Frizzle out of the way of the plans Ferrara. If anyone has the potential of ruining my plans it's Frizzle! **_

"Frizzle just became active in Walkerville sir," Ferrara began. "How can Frizzle be a threat if they never were even here to begin with?"

_**Are you questioning my motives Niccolo? **_

Niccolo Ferrara shuddered and quickly worked to placate The Scientist. "No! Of course not Mr. Scientist, sir! I just wished to know if our great benefactor wished to inform us more about the situation so that we may best know how to proceed with the Frizzle?"

_**It's none of your concern, Ferrara. Just do as I say or I will take my patronage elsewhere. **_

"Yes, Scientist, sir."

_**Good. Update me when your man has news of Frizzle and what they want in town.**_

The phone call was ended unceremoniously and Niccolo Ferrara swore at Carlos Ramon under his breath.

"Ramon better show up quick or it's over." Niccolo muttered allowed to the five identical looking men in his office who had been present for the phone conference. "Better yet…" He stopped. "As soon as I see him, I'll kill him myself."

The people in the room nodded. "Ramon has not aligned himself with either us or the Walkers. He is vital to both groups because of his position in either plan." One of the men stated.

"If he continues to work for the both of us…" Another continued.

"Then he shall become too valuable…" A voice proclaimed from the far end of the table.

"Anything or anyone that is too valuable…" One kept on.

"Then he shall become a liability that we cannot control." Niccolo finished off. All five nodded.

"He is already risking our relationship to the biggest benefactor we have." Niccolo began.

"Our only choice…" They all started in unison.

"…Is but to kill him." They ended in one voice; and one mind.

On a desk, in an office, in a building below the earth lay a white sheet of paper. Its owner was giving it a quizzical look as words slowly appeared in the center of the page.

**So rude…**

A laugh echoed as The Scientist wrote in red ink with a clear hand,

_**I know.**_

The paper did not respond.

* * *

_Author's Note: What is this? Who is this? I don't even know myself. My brain says one thing but, my heart says another. It seems like Arnold and Carlos are trying to start a groove, with mostly Arnold doing the olive branching seeing as he is filled with Frizzly-ness. But, there is a try going on here. Oh. EMM. GEE! It seems that the Ferrara's are already trying to rid us of our resident gangster and The Scientist appears as the biggest baddy of them all. Shame on The Scientist for trying to start gang activity near an elementary school though! If you have any idea who The Scientist should be, please let me know. Once again, thanks to all whom have reviewed and to all whom are reading. I appreciate every last one of you! Remember that all form of feedback is welcome! I wish you all from the bottom of my heart an amazing day and that you enjoy as much happiness as you have given me when you read this work, if not more. Please leave any comments as they are greatly appreciated. _


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